


submersion

by Hinn_Raven



Series: deprivation [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Brainwashing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Showers, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven
Summary: Wash struggles with a lot of ordinary things after being rescued.





	submersion

**Author's Note:**

> You know the feeling when you get a prompt from someone completely unexpected? Well, that was my feeling when the amazing, beautiful, and elusive elenicooper (aka my best friend in the entire world) declared she’d read the deprivation universe, she loved it, and she had requests. And since this gal is, you know, my everything, I dropped what I was doing to write the requested prompt.   
> The prompt was: “a Tucker and Wash shower scene, like maybe when Wash is just back but they don’t trust him to shower by himself. Or a sponge bath. That would also be yummy.” 
> 
> I’m not sure if “yummy” is the word I would use to describe this, but I’ve got showers and Wash and Tucker. Hopefully you all can enjoy!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Torture and captivity and trauma. And fluffy aftermath! (you can skip to the second section if whump’s not your style.)

The first time they clean him is not too long after they pull him out of solitary confinement and start training him.

He’s back in his cell, nursing a broken nose and bruised ribs among his other injuries that are adding up quickly. He’s not being given time to heal or recover; he gets a few short hours of sleep every night, before Locus or one of the pirates yanks him out and throws him into whatever new exercise they’re putting him through that day.

So far, it mostly just seems to be making him screw up so they can kick him around. That and whatever it is they’re trying to do with the tape. He’s never given instructions, just punished when he screws up, and as a result he’s a mess.

At night, his dreams are filled with his friends being put through similar scenarios.

Locus opens the door and looks down at Wash. Wash doesn’t get up onto his knees the way Locus wants him to, stays curled up in the corner with his back to the wall.

“He’s filthy,” Felix says. “Honestly Locus, don’t you know you need to clean your pets?”

Wash doesn’t react to Felix calling him that, just like he doesn’t react every time the pirates use that word.

Locus tilts his helmet at Wash and holds out a bowl of soup. No spoon, of course—Wash will have to lap at it like a dog or drink, depending on how much Felix wants to humiliate him. Wash considers not eating to spite them, but he did that yesterday, and his stomach growls. Glowering, Wash moves towards Locus—on his hands and knees, because they knock him down every time he tries to walk properly in the cell—and sits up on his knees in front of him.

He’s allowed to drink the soup, for which he’s twistedly grateful, but then comes the other part. Locus holds up the pills.

Wash moves away like he always does—he has no idea what the end goal is for the drugs they’re giving him, but he does know that it makes him unable to fight back and that it can’t be good, whatever it is.

Felix moves forward and grabs him, forcing his jaw open so Locus can force-feed him the pills. Wash gags as they’re pressed in, his head tilted back, and closes his eyes as he feels the tiny little pills go down his throat.

“Time to clean you up,” Felix says cheerfully, and Wash tries to struggle as he’s pulled to his feet and escorted down the hallway.

There’s green tape in front of the bathroom, and Wash has figured out enough of the strange color-code they’re trying to engrain into him to know he needs permission to cross that line.

Locus seems satisfied as he spots Wash’s hesitation as they pull him towards the door. “You have permission,” he says, and pulls Wash over the line.

Wash wants to be relieved when he spots the shower stall, but he somehow doubts that’s how it works.

His hands are wrenched behind his back suddenly and painfully, and Wash winces as the cuffs fasten tightly around his wrists.

Still clothed, he’s shoved forward until he’s into the stall, and Wash turns back to face them, wanting to see what they’ve got planned.

“Five minutes,” Locus says flatly. “If you leave before then, you will regret it.”

Wash almost doesn’t understand when the shower comes to life and an involuntary yelp bursts out of his mouth.

The water is icy cold, and the torrent of it is hard and fast enough that it’s borderline painful, dousing him thoroughly and soaking his clothes through. He tries to move closer to the wall, hoping he can escape the spray, but there doesn’t seem to be a dry spot.

Outside the stall, he can see Felix and Locus. Felix has a knife out, leaving Wash with no doubt as to what his punishment would be if he tries to leave.

Wash tries to inch towards the corner, hoping to find at least a partial respite, but the tile is slippery beneath his bare feet and he falls. His forehead hits the tile hard and he sees stars. He struggles, trying to regain his footing, but his body isn’t responding to his commands.

He hears Felix laughing in the distance, but the noise is faded and muffled.

Wash isn’t sure if it’s the drugs, the cold, or the exhaustion that has been seeping into his bones over these past few days. All he knows is that he can’t get to his feet again, and his teeth are chattering. The water feels like hail against his skin, and Wash grits his teeth and tries to protect his face as best he can, figuring that waiting it out is his best option. At least this way he can deny Felix the entertainment.

The water stops, and Wash tries to force himself to his feet again. But Locus gets there first, grabbing the chain of the handcuffs and forcing Wash to his feet.

“Back to your cell,” Felix says. “Hmm, no that’s not right. A kennel, maybe? That’s where you keep pets, right?”

“Fuck you,” Wash manages, despite the shivers that are racking his body.

Felix laughs, and there’s a flash of silver in Wash’s periphery as Felix presses a knife against his ear. “I’ll punish you for that tomorrow,” Felix purrs. “You need to learn to respect your handlers, Wash.”

Locus says nothing, just keeps dragging Wash down the hallway back to his cell. “Why do you fight, Washington?” He asks as he shoves Wash to the ground. Wash doesn’t get up, just stays there, waiting for Felix or Locus to undo the cuffs. “No one will come for you. You will break. You only fight the inevitable.”

Wash says nothing; he’s already going to be paying for his defiance.

“The cuffs stay on,” Felix says. “Turn down the room temperature, would you? This punishment’s an all-nighter!”

Wash closes his eyes tightly, still shivering. Wet clothes and a cold room all night… he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch a cold.

And it’s going to be miserable even if he doesn’t.

It’s an effective punishment, Wash thinks, even as he curls himself into as tight of a ball as possible to try to find some warmth, even as Locus and Felix leave him, locking the door behind them.

But they won’t break him.

The others are coming for him.

* * *

Wash can’t shower on his own, they discover this after a few days.

Every time Tucker tries to gently lead him into the shower, he starts shrinking and yelping and won’t actually clean himself, even when Tucker does the thing he hates most and _orders_ Wash to. He just hunches there and shivers, looking at Tucker with miserable eyes. It’s even worse if Tucker’s not there or tries to leave, then he just curls up in a corner and shakes.

Grey has _very gently_ suggested that maybe Wash can manage a shower if Tucker is _in_ the shower with him.

Tucker’s been resistant to the idea, because it’s not _right_. There’s boundaries, aren’t there? It feels wrong, doing this when Wash can’t tell him to “fuck off, Tucker” or “stop being a pervert and give me twenty”.

But Wash is absolutely filthy because he keeps wandering into empty storage closets and finding dusty, cobweb filled corners, and nothing is _working_ , so Tucker gives in.

They’re using the showers attached to the hospital, so there’s a modicum of privacy, and Grey’s right on hand if Wash has another panic attack. But for now, Tucker carefully closes the curtains behind them.

At least he doesn’t have to undress Wash—Wash removes his clothes quietly as soon as the outer curtain closes, putting his clothes on the little bench that’s there for that purpose.

Wash isn’t freaking out with Tucker here, which lends credence to Grey’s theory, which is fucked up, because how the hell did Locus and Felix make showering alone a _punishment_?

But then Tucker remembers that being alone is almost always a punishment for Wash, and he swallows hard.

He promises himself he’ll get an answer from Felix before he stabs that fucker right through the chest. Not the heart. He doesn’t have one.

When the water starts up, Wash relaxes, staring at Tucker expectantly. Tucker awkwardly picks up the bottle of shampoo—his hair is _disgusting_ —and carefully reaches up to start to massage it into Wash’s scalp.

Wash _melts_ , letting out those delighted little noises he makes when he’s not just being touched, but he’s being touched _just right_ , and he closes his eyes and just lets Tucker carefully scrub the shampoo into his hair.

Felix and Locus hadn’t bothered to let Wash keep up his hair dye routine, so there’s more grey in the blonde than there should be. Tucker gently makes Wash turn around so he can scrub the back of his hair, and carefully avoids touching Wash’s neck, which has managed to become even more of a mess of scar tissue than it was the last time Tucker had examined Wash’s neck. Grey has said they had fucked with Wash’s implants, but it’s one thing to know that, and another thing to see the new, fresh looking scars overlapping with the old ones.

Wash starts to shiver, apparently finding the water too cold, and Tucker carefully reaches out and takes his hand, guiding it to the temperature control. “Left for warmer, right for colder, okay Wash? Can you do that?”

Wash hesitates, looking back at Tucker as he withdraws his own hand. Getting the hint, Tucker returns his hand to pressing over Wash’s, giving Wash the excuse he needs to start adjusting the temperature of the water.

The temperature Wash picks is almost too hot for Tucker, but he lets Wash have this; the guy is constantly shivering. Caboose has suggested that Wash was locked in a freezer, and honestly Tucker could believe it. It sounds right up the two assholes’ alleys.

Hair cleaned, Tucker starts to scrub Wash down with a loofa, despite the awkwardness involved. But there’s nothing sexual about it; it’s the furthest thing from Tucker’s mind right now. He just keeps cleaning Wash until he’s confident that there’s no dirt left, then turns off the water.

Opening the inner curtain, Tucker grabs the fluffiest, softest towel that Grif had been able to scrape up, and wraps it around Wash, drying him off. Wash makes a little noise that Tucker can’t place, and then presses his forehead against Tucker’s shoulder. Tucker sighs and runs his fingers through Wash’s wet hair, trying to comb it into some kind of order. After a little while of this, Tucker pulls away and makes Wash get dressed. But as soon as Tucker’s own clothes are on, Wash presses back against him, getting that look in his eyes that usually means he’s expecting to get shoved back. He’s cold, Tucker realizes, spotting the goosebumps up and down Wash’s arms.

“You just got steamed in a shower, and you’re _still_ cold?” Tucker says to Wash, but he pulls Wash in so that he’s pressed against him. Tucker runs warm, always has, and Wash presses into him like he’s a cat who’s found a sunbeam. Wash’s wet hair leaves damp patches on Tucker’s shirt, but Tucker really can’t bring himself to care, not when Wash looks almost unafraid for once, as the shivering fades away.

“I take it we had a success, Captain Tucker?” Grey says, poking her head in. She smiles when she sees them. “Well. It’s good to see we’re making progress, Agent Washington. Don’t you worry, you’ll be back to your old self again before you know it! With a _teeny bit_ of long-term trauma, of course!”

Wash doesn’t respond to Grey, just closes his eyes and clings to Tucker like he never intends to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests for this universe are still open! You can hit me up at secretlystephaniebrown!


End file.
